Black Holes Form
by MakeYouNotice
Summary: In the five years between Egypt and Chicago, the Decepticons slowly get more vicious in their attacks and when one of their own disappears, the Autobots must put aside their differences and work together. The world might not be at stake yet, but their sparks sure are. Sequel to When Stars Collide.
1. Prologue: Just Keep Breathing

**Black Holes Form**

**Prologue**

**Just Keep Breathing**

"_The beginning is just another end, it's not too late to start again, when hope gets all too hard to hold, just take a breathe and let it go"_

"_Everyone, this is my twin. Lightningstrike."_

Six words. Six words that undeniably changed her life. Whether it was for better or worse remained to be seen.

The first thing Lightningstrike learned was that all the horror stories she had heard from other Decepticons since she was young about Ratchet were all completely, horrifyingly true. Even the ones about the wrenches. She shuddered at the thought of the shiny new dented helm the Prime was sporting (Ratchet had hit him through the whole crowd of Autobots and it she didn't know better, she'd have thought he was a master marksman).

That had been her first surprise, the ease and familiarity with which the Autobots regarded their leader. Megatron would have never allowed it. But then, Optimus Prime wasn't really Megatron and that was kind of the point.

Optimus wasn't Megatron and Autobots had different policies than Decepticons and Lightningstrike wasn't sure which one she agreed with. Did she have to agree?

She was an important asset to both sides, she knew, but neither side really knew how important. Truthfully, she didn't either. Soundwave had kept her and her sister apart for a reason, a reason, she assumed, that had served its purpose. They were together again now and Lightning knew they wouldn't be if Soundwave still had a use for them being separate.

Her optics, hidden behind the visor she refused to take off, slid to her sister strapped to a berth and in stasis. The thing was huge and higher off the ground than a normal sized mech needed it. Probably the Prime's. She could feel the femme through their bond in a muted sort of way; the bond wasn't completely open and she wasn't really sure what to do abut it. Her sister was thinking dark thoughts, she knew. Brooding, Lightning used to say and her sister would always call them circle thoughts.

Good memories of better days. Days when they were just _them_.

They were only sort of together, but she would take that.

It was better than more vorns alone and empty.

0o0

Strikezone wasn't sure if she was elated or if her pumps were working out some unwanted gasses, but she was somewhere in that area. Humans said they had butterflies in their stomachs. She would have called them fierce hunting hawks, if she were human.

Her sister (_twin_. Maybe now she could feel like she had a whole, healthy spark. Maybe now she could be _content_) was back and her family hated her. Of course, life couldn't be easy and her twin had to be one of the most hated Decepticons behind the commanding officers. Striker was _so_ looking forward to dealing with Ironhide. Where was a turbo charged ion blaster when you needed it?

She didn't want to do this.

_One pede in front of the other_, she thought. _Just breathe._

One deep intake later and she was onlining her optics.

0o0

"Well Lunar, you always did say you would run away and join the traveling entertainers. This is almost as good."

The black femme laughed and sat up slowly, glaring at her creaking joints. "Yeah. They are and interesting bunch, aren't they? And call me Striker. Lunarstar doesn't really feel right anymore."

"Then call me Lightning because I'm not really Starfall anymore, either," she said quietly. She watched her sister for a moment before it occurred to her to ask, "Why _are _you chained to the berth, anyway?"

"Precaution. I'm a terrible patient. But…" she trailed off, digging around in her subspace and producing a shiny new lock pick, "the Doc Bot doesn't know about this."

Lightning watched her sister expertly pick the locks on her shackles with calculating optics; she had done this before, and often. "You really are a different type of crazy for going against them like this," she said, trying hard not to think of the punishments garnered for insubordination like this at the Decepticon base. She had seen brutal things that had nothing to do with war.

"Not crazy, just… you know what? I'll take the crazy. And Ratchet isn't _that_ bad, as long as you remember that his anger is love. In a really violent form. Now, are you coming or no, sister mine?" Striker said. She apparently intended to boldly walk out of the front door of the med-bay.

"That door is locked."

"Is that really supposed to stop me?" Striker was right, very little stopped her when she was determined.

"No. Just thought you would like to know." Strikezone didn't answer her, just leaned against the door and looked. It was an unsettling kind of look, but only because Lightning had never dreamed of seeing it on her sister's face. It was a steady sort of look, one that told you without a doubt that those optics were looking into your mind. Strikezone stared into Lightning's visor until she started fidgeting. "What?" she snapped.

"Nothing. Just...be careful. I trust you, but they don't. You're here on my good word, sad as that is, so watch yourself. Autobots aren't the same bleeding sparks they used to be," then she slipped out of the doors, leaving Lightning to her own circle thoughts.

Brooding. Unacceptable.

Inhale. _Not alone_, she thought, _I'm not alone anymore_. They may have broken every single one of their promises, but Decepticons lie and she was stronger for it. _I'm not alone._

Exhale. _I need a place that feels like home but what I think of as home isn't what I need,_ she told herself. Even the her own twin didn't quite feel like home.

Inhale. _I can start over here and make a completely new life._

Exhale. _I just need to let it go._

Lightningstrike hopped off her berth and followed Striker out the door.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello and welcome to the first chapter of the sequel to When Stars Collide. Hopefully, I can keep to the same Monday update schedule. Hopefully. Enjoy. <strong>


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Chasing Cars**

"_I don't quite know how to say how I feel, those three words are said too much, they're not enough, if I lie here, if I just lie here, would you lie with me and just forget the world"_

She panted, surprised and pleased by the fight the other femme was putting up. It wasn't that her twin was ever a bad fighter, but she had always been just slightly better at swordplay than her sister. Now it was even and she couldn't be happier. Nothing was better than a worthy opponent of equal skill.

Optimus and Ironhide leaned against the wall of the training room and watched critically, reminding her of that long ago orn, vorns ago on Cybertron when she had gotten her new name. Optimus had been watching her then, too.

_His optics burned on her armor, heavy and intent. He had optics that _saw _things. That's what made her falter long enough for Ironhide to get the upper servo. Her processor was so split between the weight of Prime's optics and Ironhide's furious blows that she lost focus on it all for a moment. It was just a nanosec, but it was long enough for him to grab her around the neck and slam her down. So ended their first training session and mock battle._

Everything and nothing had changed since then. She had ben nothing, confused and nameless and without a home or a history or a family. She hadn't known the behemoth mech that leaned against the wall watching her, hadn't known the gruff Weapons Master that had agreed to train her. She had learned that the mechs there were never what they first appeared to be. Knew it in her spark from the moment he smiled and applauded her.

_He had clapped for her slowly, optics still heavy on her and unwavering. He wore a battlemask that covered the lower half of his face and she couldn't read him. It frustrated her because she had this odd feeling, a half-remembered reassurance that she could read _anyone_. It made her feel like she was breaking a promise. Something said that promises were engraved on her spark and not to be broken._

_She knew nothing of him but he was still the center of her focus because she knew that he was the real danger, no matter the beating that Ironhide had just given her. He was electric and magnetic but his EM field told her nothing about him. But there was still this thing in the air around him and the way Ironhide watched him too that left her unsurprised when the red mech said, "This is Optimus Prime. Prime, this is the scraplet we found in Kaon."_

"_Be nice, old friend," he rumbled out and she can still remember the sound of his voice the first time. It immediately decided her about him. "You fight well for one so young. I have been told you do not remember your name. Do you desire a new one?" When she hesitantly nodded, his optics turned thoughtful for a moment. She was curious. It must be something to be named by the Prime (and she had an instinctual knowledge of just _how_ important he was) and she wanted to know what he would call her. "Battle seems to be deeply engraved into you and your fighting style is unique. You deserve something befitting the warrior you will soon be. From now on, your new designation will be Strikezone."_

_It was an intake of fresh air, having a name and a place (because this Prime seemed very intent on her place as warrior) and she smiled a bit. "Then I am Strikezone. At your service, Commander, Prime." And she bowed to them. It wasn't a real ceremony like some had, but it was certainly good enough. So was the smirk on Ironhide's face that said he knew something and the way the Prime's optics glowed._

They glowed now too and Striker had come to recognize it as a smile. That was one of the things that had changed. He still watched her fight (but so rarely fought with her, since she would have been so overmatched. She could admit that his skills far surpassed hers) and he still wore that battlemask and she still went by the name he gave her but she knew things now. She knew how her comrades worked, knew that Ironhide wasn't as gruff as he acted and that Ratchet actually did like people and that the big twins could play well with others and a hundred other things that came with being family.

She dodged another swipe from her sister and thought about all the little things she didn't know about her twin. Things that the bond had shown her but that she didn't actually _know_, things she hadn't learned. That had changed, too. Striker wasn't alone in her processor like she used to be and she found that it felt more natural like that. She kind of liked it.

She felt optics on her, amused, heavy optics that she never ignored, no matter how mush she wanted to. Thus, she didn't quite move fast enough to doge the sword swinging at her leg, though she did block the one coming for her throat. Either way, she ended up on her back, winded, mock-defeated and staring into her twin's bright red visor. "Looks like you've learned something while I've been gone, darling sister mine and while I yield to you," Striker said, twisting her hand around her twin's blade, shredding the metal of her servos (Ratchet was going to be furious; he had just recalibrated her joints) and using their entwined legs to flip the still-slightly smaller femme onto her back with her own sword pointed at her throat, "you still haven't learned quite enough, Lightningstrike."

Striker rolled to let her sister up, smiling up and the blue femme. "Lovely work out, though. Can't wait to spar when we're both in top form."

"I'll be looking forward to it. Don't pull your punches next time," and she turned to go.

"Only if you don't pull yours, spark of mine." Lightning only stopped for a moment to toss a vicious grin over her shoulder, a flash in her visor that said '_I can't wait._'

0o0

Strikezone growled as her armor was struck once again, leaving a gash slowly leaking energon and showing sparking circuitry. It was one of many littering her sides, though none were anywhere near fatal. She only got pleasure from the sight of her opponent faring worse than her. She backed up and they circled each other again while she traded her new hatchet for her favored swords. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it her way. He moved first, slashing down at the armor that protected her spark chamber. Striker made use of her smaller size and comparative speed to duck behind him to slash at the back of his right knee. He had a habit of getting it torn off and she knew the mechanism was weaker because of it.

Optimus groaned in pain and spun on her with speed that defied his mass and put her in a head lock, lifting her pedes off the ground. She swung her legs and planted her pedes on his knees, spinning her wheels against his thigh plating and throwing up sparks at the same time she jabbed his already sparking shoulder with her blade. His arm went momentarily limp and she dropped, once again cutting at his knees. Prime caught her hip, cutting through some painfully important wires and slowing her down. She snarled and made a note to herself to get that weak spot covered up.

Again, they separated and again, they clashed like titans with a clang of metal on metal. Watching them fight, one would never believe that these two were the closest of lovers. They snarled and growled like animals and Striker showed just how she got her name as she ruthlessly targeted the weakest points on her opponent while Optimus cut and ripped at her armor. The battle was over suddenly, Prime's swords having been dropped and Striker pointing a sword at his spark chamber.

"Do you surrender?" Striker's voice was cold and hot air blasted from her vents as her spark spun hard to cool her systems down. Optimus could see in her battle-bright optics that he had to tread lightly here. It was common practice to kill your opponents in the gladiator pits and it was a miracle she had not yet done so. Prime had known that sparring with him would most likely trigger those memories but he was willing to take the chance if it meant he could help her work through them. He offlined his optics and retracted his battlemask, drawing gasps from the new recruits who had not yet seen the bottom half of his face, bowing his helm slightly as he murmured, "I yield."

Striker trailed the tip of her sword up and used it to lift his chin. Optimus powered his optics back on in time to see her optics dim from the battle high as she transformed her blade back into a hand and nodded to him before stepping back. "Hope you were paying attention, newbies. _That_ is how Cybertronians fight."

Will Lennox shook himself out of the daze he had fallen into. He hadn't yet seen the new femme fight and he could tell they were both pulling punches, though it gave him the chance to analyze her fighting style. She was wild like a tornado with the controlled movements of someone who had been taught to stand from a very young age (he should know; his older cousin was a ballet dancer and he knew how someone well-trained moved), something that was both at odds and perfectly matched to Prime's dancing and lethal grace. Still thinking over the differences and how he could turn them to their advantage, he turned to address the recruits the Cybertronians had been sparring for.

"You've gotten rusty, old mech," she murmured as the Prime pulled his battlemask back on. The metal on the lower half of his face was still sensitive around the scars. And if he was a little self-conscious about it, no one would say anything.

"Perhaps I was just pulling my punches. I wouldn't want to defeat you so easily in your first match against me in vorns."

She scoffed because she knew he was right. No one matched Optimus Prime on the battlefield in skill or experience save one. So instead of retorting, she just grabbed his servo with her good one (the other had been wrapped by Ratchet, who decided it would be a good idea until the small welds and recalibrations set) and dragged him out of the main hanger. She had an idea.

Diego Garcia was beautiful in that organic way that all of Earth seemed to be. The place had a sort of untouched and solitary feel to it, aided by the sea surrounding it on al sides. There was a little cove on the east shore with a cliff hanging over it that she had found in her first week there while she was hiding from Ratchet. Almost two months after Egypt and the CMO had stopped obsessively checking her up. He was still protective of her and every scratch she got, but it wasn't as bad. Striker knew it was just a way to say I love you from the crotchety old mech so she allowed it. That cove was her destination now since the only other person that knew about it was Lighting. But then, Lighting knew everything she knew, so it wasn't a surprise.

"Now," Striker said in that voice that brooked no argument, "what's wrong?"

"Why does something have to be wrong?" he said, only feigning affronted and sighing on the inside. She always knew.

"Because you very rarely spar with me and I know the difference between pulling your punches and honest distraction. You didn't let me win; you just never paid enough attention to put up a fight, which is even worse. So tell me, what has the great Optimus Prime worried?" Now her voice was just unshakeable confidence because she could _always_ read him, no matter how changed he was.

"You don't call me Orion anymore," he said, part explanation and part distraction.

"Because I haven't seen Orion since he told me he loved me before our world burned around us. Since then, all I've seen is the cold mech who's more Prime than Optimus. I'm sorry if I haven't quite wrapped my processor around this new you." Striker never had been one to beat around the bush and her words were as blunt as ever. Just as harsh and needed as they ever were.

He just stared at her, not really surprised at her brash honesty but more trying to put his answer together. "I need you like I need energon to function and without you I just shut down. I was okay as long as I could pretend my spark didn't exist and it did not when you were not here, not in the same way it used to. Even now with you back, I am not really sure how to tell you- I do not how to say that I…" he trailed off, vocalizer clicking as he realized that he really couldn't say it. Not again after what had happened last time.

"I love you, Orion," and it sounded almost like a question.

"Yes, exactly that. The words seem so inadequate and used up for you but I am not certain-"

She cut him off this time, one servo covering his mouth and the other on his cheek, her expression equal parts amused and frustrated. "Mech, did you hear me? I said, _I love you_ and those words are perfectly fine to me. So stop babbling and slow down for a minute. Breathe, sweetspark. Different though you are, you're still my Orion with all the baggage that comes with. As long as you don't mind all of mine, that is," she added quickly, well aware that there was the distinct possibility that he had moved on after all this time.

His frame almost visibly sagged into her though, his big fingers clutching her shoulders as he buried his face into her shouldered and did just as she suggested, taking big and mostly unnecessary gulps of air. "I love you too, Strikezone. Primus, I missed you," he murmured before lapsing into the Language of the Primes, something she'd never be able to understand.

So, instead of trying to decipher it, she disentangled herself from him and sat down, holding out a servo to him. "I plan on laying here for a while. You want to stay with me and just forget the world?"

She didn't have to ask him twice.


	3. intermission 1

**Intermission 1**

**How You Remind Me**

"_Never made it as a wise me, never made it as a poor man stealing, tired of living as a blind man, I'm sick of seeing without a sense of feeling, and this is how you remind me, this is how you remind me of what I really am"_

Earth is an interesting place to be. It's ever changing and rich in everything and beautiful and dangerous and full of creatures that were so like them and so smart but so very, very naive. Blind to their own destruction. It was almost sad when you thought about it.

Ironhide tried not to think.

There were a lot of things that he never wanted to think of and many of them had nothing to do with the war. He was a soldier and programmed to withstand such horrors. No, the things he locked away were far more personal. Ironhide was old for a reason, tougher than anything the universe had managed to throw at him but that didn't stop the regrets or help burry the secrets.

He didn't like the new femme. She reminded him too much of (_blue armor, carefree smile, infectious laugh, bright optics through which a brighter spark shown_) someone he'd much rather forget. She grew on him like cosmic rust, wheedling her way into his life, even if she didn't know it.

That was another thing he didn't like; she reminded him too much of himself with her ornery personality and perpetual bad attitude and love of sharp and dangerous things. Honestly, she could be a (_following that blue armor was the only reason he found himself in Master Roadthread's forgery and the mech decided on the spot that he would be a-_) Weapons Master. He wasn't sure if he could truly train her, put her through the whole apprenticeship and Tests. So, he avoided her as much as possible. Everyone assumed he was suspicious, but they were wrong.

Ironhide had never been stupid. Overly cautious, sure, but never stupid. That meant that he was very well aware of Lightningstrike's potential usefulness. It also meant that he was well aware that he was scared and his fear was making him avoid her. He was running from some tiny blue (not just any shade of blue, but _his_ shade) femme because he was scared. Running was intolerable. So he resolved to face his problem. Later. Preferably after he had had some time for thought, had found some drinkable high grade on this miserable mud ball of a planet and gotten very overcharged on it.

As Dropkick used to say, Ironhide's coping methods weren't the healthiest. He thought of the last time the mech had said that to him, leaning tiredly against the door to his housing unit, blue armor glinting dully in the low light (he must have been sick even then because he never looked dull, ever) and tiredly amused at his (emotionally, psychologically and miraculously _not_ physically for once) damaged sometimes-lover. Too much to bear and too much hurt and too much of his life spent tamping down his emotions made him not want to examine the memory too closely. That would only dig up more buried feelings and memories that Ironhide didn't want. What he wanted was to forget.

Ironhide rarely got what he wanted.

He wandered across Bumblebee first, the yellow youngling using the narrow, wind-blasted trees that grew on the island for target practice. He wasn't a sharpshooter by any means, but he was a spy and he was very good at conserving his shots. "You did well. Looks like my teaching wasn't completely wasted, scraplet," he bellowed.

Bee fired off another shot and felled another tree before dialing up his radio's volume, "_The nicest man I ever met was more malicious than malcontent, he taught me..._"

"I am neither malicious or malcontent," he said, crossing his bulky arms and moving closer.

When Bee turned around, Ironhide got the distinct impression that the little mech was smirking. "_Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time,_" sang his radio. Hide vaguely recognized the singer's voice.

"I think I would know whether or not I'm lying about my own state of mind."

"_But he fakes it anyway, he may not have a clue and he may not have style but everything he lacks, well, he makes up for in denial_," and Ironhide realized why he knew that voice. Pretty Fly for a White Guy was something his pseudo-son played pretty often around Sam (which was almost all the time) and the voice was imprinted in his processor. "_When you walk away, nothing more to say, see the lightning in your eyes_."

"What does Lightningstrike have to do with any of this?" Ironhide said and the second he did, he knew he'd made a mistake. He could feel that smirk again and knew he was screwed.

"_How long will you hide your face, are you afraid?_"

Scratch that. Hide was torqued. "I'm not afraid of some little femme that's half my height and mass." At least, that was what he told himself.

Bumblebee shook his helm slightly and there was wistfulness in his EM field like he was smiling slightly. "Maybe not physically," he said in his rusty, half-healed voice, "but you know that she could chew you up and spit you out and-" the mech broke off in a painful sounding cough before he shook his head. A song picked up his sentence, "_that terrified you, you swore that you'd never loose your control._"

"I don't- I'm not sure you're wrong, mechling. But I won't ever say you're right."

It was the closest to admitting defeat he would ever get. Dropkick had been an aft, but he was always right about Ironhide. He was offline now, blue armor long turned gray, but Hide could almost feel the fragger laughing at him from the Well, egging him on. _That's my mech_, he'd say, _scared of his own spark. What am I going to do with you?_

_Simple, _Ironhide always replied, _nothing. This is my fight._

But then, his spark wasn't the enemy. He was.

**0o0**

**Songs Used: Capital M.E. by Taking Back Sunday, Gonna Go Far Kid by the Offspring, Pretty Fly (For a White Guy) by the Offspring, Let it Burn by RED and Run for Your Life by the Fray**


	4. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Playing God**

"_Can't make my own decisions or make any with precision, well maybe you should tie me up, so I don't go where you don't want me, you say that I've been changing, that I'm not just simply aging, how can that be logical, just keep cramming ideas down my throat"_

"So I can go into the mess hall now? How does help?" Lightning said. It had been a little over six months since Egypt and the disaster that was her arrival and she was slowly getting restricted areas opened to her. Last month, it was the shooting range, the soldier's commons area the month before that. This was just perplexing, though. Why the human cafeteria?

"It means that you can eat human food if you'd like and use it to fuel your holo if you ever feel so inclined," said Sideswipe in the most condescending tone he could. The one he knew would get her torqued.

It worked.

Which was why she was sitting in the hanger that posed as a brig on Diego Garcia (It more closely resembled human high school detention- annoyingly boring instead of a real punishment), stripped of her newest privilege. It was all right with her, she had no real wish to interact with the humans. Trying out her holo would have been interesting, but it was all worth blasting that arrogant Bladerunner in the face. He was too much for her frayed neural wires to handle, ever.

All of the Autobots were, for various reasons. The biggest being that they were all hypocrites.

"I heard Ironhide locked you up in here. When I found out it was for attacking Sideswipe, I told him that you had done us all a favor. Except maybe Ratchet, since Sides is in the med bay and a more annoying patient than I will ever be. Well, come on. I'm supposed to be showing you around, since Ironhide apparently just realized that anyone related to me is bound to be very violent." _Speaking of hypocrites,_ Lightningstrike thought as her twin strolled into the hanger like she owned the place. With her position next to Prime, she sort of did. Strikezone was the reason she was so bitter right then and the target of her (mostly misplaced) anger. She was a hypocrite, but nowhere near the biggest one on that Primus-forsaken mud ball planet.

"Why are you here?" Lightning said, leaning away from the light thrown by the open hangar doors.

"I thought my rambling just made it obvious. I'm here to get out of this sorry excuse for a brig and then I'm making sure your holo program is up to par. Simple and easy. Now come on." Lightningstrike blinked. She'd forgotten how fast her sister's processor switched tracks sometimes. She didn't bother with an answer, knowing that her force of nature twin wouldn't listen.

Strikezone led her to one of the many coves on the island, citing a need for privacy. She couldn't focus very long with others around her. Lightingstrike was only a little surprised when the femme offered her a cable for uplink. It was a little thing, just for medical purposes and Lighting guessed her sister had the ones for recreational purposes soldered shut like most soldiers. She missed the old days when an uplink wasn't so rare or dangerous. Strikezone's optics softened a little and she offered a lopsided smile, "I know. I miss it, too. You should see the Twins, though. Sometimes, you wouldn't even know the times have changed with the way those two go at it."

Lightning raised her optic ridges. "The Twin Terrors? Somehow, I'm not surprised. They don't seem ones for self control."

"Trust me when I say that they're not. Now, if you please? It's a bit tricky to set the thing up yourself, so I thought I'd make your life a little easier."

Lighting took the cable, pretending that it wasn't a big deal; all the while locking her more personal thoughts behind the thickest firewalls Soundwave had ever taught her. Twin or no, there were some things she would hide as long as she could. It didn't take long for her to feel Striker sifting through her codes, finding a certain one and activating the program, then leading her through the start up and usage. Then she was alone in her processor again and colder than ever in her spark. Twins were never meant to be alone or apart in any way and while proximity was healing them, their severely muted bond was hurting them more. Feeling her sister so close again, even for a simple semi-medical procedure like this, was a huge setback to her coping. She hid it away though, pushed it into a dark corner where Strikezone wouldn't see and busied herself with the holo program.

Lightningstrike pretended not to see the flash of sympathetic pain in her twin's blue optics.

The holo program was interesting and expertly crafted. It was intricate and partially sentient, enough that it chose how your projection looked. Lightning could see that the thing would be completely solid and could even wander a few hundred feet away from her real form. It was even capable of processing its own energy from available sources. She wondered what the program would envision for her. So, with a shrug, she selected the human form and let the Autobot tech work its magic.

Being human was… odd. Really, really, odd. She felt shorter than normal and she didn't like the feeling at all. What was even stranger was that if she tried, she could still feel her real body, still see out of its optics. What she saw was somewhere between surprising and satisfying. The girl she was and was looking at (this was going to get really confusing, really fast) was shorter than average and maybe a little underweight (definitely underweight- her automatic scans told her that) with skin like coffee with too much cream in it. She was clad in slightly too-big camouflage cargo pants and a t-shirt, both in shades of bright blue with slightly oversized Predator shades. Her hair was brown and shoulder length and stick straight. The little human representation stood with her back completely straight and her face blank, an expression bred into her. There were tattoos winding down her arms, Cybertronian that would follow her wherever she went marking her as things she wasn't proud of (_saboteur, Hunter, codec, silver-tongue_) and scars from her darkest hours. The story of her life mapped out on delicate human skin. The body was lovely in it's own way, a work of art in motion. She kind of liked it.

Satisfied, Lighting slipped from her real body, transforming into her alt and backing under an overhanging tree before opening her human eyes and taking full control over the holoform. She blinked, getting used to the different perceptions and sensations. She was surprised to find that her HUD carried over to her sunglasses.

Striker's holo materialized in front of her with little more than a shimmer of electricity that lasted less than a second. The girl that suddenly stood before her was slightly taller, quite a bit heavier and had darker skin and shorter hair. Her eyes were visible and a bright, electric blue that, together with the white teeth she was enthusiastically showing off, stood out from her darker skin. "Well, don't we just look identical?" she said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, but it was mostly true. As dissimilar as their bodies were, the faces of the holos were almost exactly alike. Well, they would have been were it not for the huge scar that ran the length of the right side of her face and continued onto her neck. "Wren," she added out of the blue. "They call me Wren in this form. Well, Gabe does. He's kind of weird that way."

"Gabe? The annoyingly talkative blond squishy?" Lightning asked. She had only sort of bothered to learn their names.

"Sadly, yes. Anyways, I'm gonna-" Striker broke off what was sure to be some senseless, winding explanation of nothing and her eyes lost focus for a moment, obviously getting a new transmission. She snapped back into focus with a scowl on her face and said, "Make that, I _was_ gonna take you on an official tour. I can't now since Command feels like they desperately need my presence. I'm not even technically a ranking officer, slaggit! I wanted to hang out with you. Oh well, I suppose this will give you time to wander on your own. I'll find you when I'm done and I won't be long. They will _not_ keep me long."

"Go, fragger. I'm a big femme, I can look after myself," Lightningstrike said, suddenly unhappy for no apparent reason. It wasn't the first time she had been left alone because duty called. She was, after all, nothing but an untrustworthy, outsider Decepticon.

0o0

"Hey, Lightningstrike! Care for a wash up?"

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face the blue-eyed human that had called her- Mikaela. She was leaning over the yellow bug with a sponge and wearing an oversized pair of cargo pants and a t-shirt covered in suds that she suspected wasn't hers. Lightning raised an optic ri-eyebrow and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Washing Bee, at the moment. The bots tend to get pretty dusty and I know they hate it. I wanted to know if you wanted to be cleaned," the human replied.

She was startled by the scrolling text across the back of her shades and the slightly amused feeling that came with it for a moment before she realized that it was her comm system. She hadn't expected to be able to use it in her weak human form. :_It feels awesome. You should try it. Maybe you'll actually smile_.:

Lightning started at Bumblebee's words. She hasn't realized until then that she hadn't smiled in... a very long time. Instead of acknowledging the annoyingly cheerful yellow bot's words, she stood there, crossed her arms and carefully split her conscious to guide her real body to the beach she had been wandering past. Her face twisted in disgust at her once-bright blue paint job and pulled out of that body as soon as it was safely parked near Mikaela. Lightning hadn't noticed it before, but she was covered in a fine layer of dust and she felt positively _filthy_.

The human whistled appreciatively at her alt form. "Wow, Audi R8 e-tron? Damn that's a beautiful alt. I don't even want to know where you found it. Something like that needs to be worshipped. Let me just finish Bee real quick and then I'll get started," she said, picking up a hose.

"_Ah, girl look at that body_," the bug's radio played when the girl was done and he was shining. He actually did look nice in the sunlight, glinting like that. Not that Lightning would ever admit it.

"Sorry Bee, but I think the twins have you beat. Both sets of adult twins," Mikaela shot back without blinking.

:_You're gonna wanna feel this. The first time is always the best_,: Bumblebee sent to her even as he replied to Mikaela with "_Isn't she lovely? Isn't she wonderful?_"

"I'd ask who you meant, but I don't think I want to know. We're both lovely," she said calmly. Lightning just released her conscious from the holo, watching it dissolve as feeling returned in her real body. Honestly, she would rather be human again for all that she hated the limitedness of their bodies because she felt absolutely grimy. That is, she felt grimy until Mikaela started applying the soap. Then it was pure, unadulterated bliss for a while.

"What's up with the rap all if the sudden?" Mikaela asked. Lightningstrike wasn't sure Bumblebee had started playing music, but she did notice when it abruptly stopped. Actually, the music was probably what had lulled her into such a state.

"_I'm coming home, I'm coming home_," came from his radio, almost contrite sounding.

"Home? How does P Diddy remind you of home?" Mikaela asked, confused enough to stop her washing.

"Human rap actually does well to mimic Cybertronian music. Music for us does not involve instruments so much as perfectly blended voices. Like the musical scale for a piano, it can easily be equated to a mathematical equation in the way voices and words blend. I think... I miss it," Lightning replied for the bug, her usual waspish voice tempered by the odd calm from the wash and trailing off at the end. She wasn't used to assessing her feelings in any capacity.

"Rap? Really? Huh, I guess that song does have some meaning. So then what's with your preference for pop, Bee?" Mikaela was still curious but now she had the presence of mind to finish washing off the femme waiting semi patiently before her.

"You have your preferences," he said in a rusty voice, "and I have mine." His engine spluttered in a cough and he fell silent, the use of his voice shorting a few very important wires. Ratchet wouldn't be pleased.

"Wait. Lightningstrike, weren't you and Strikezone singers back on Cybertron? I remember her saying something about it once. I was wondering if you remembered anything, if you could sing anything. I'd… I'd like to hear something, if you don't mind," Mikaela said quietly, thoughtfully as she gathered all the towels, sponges and empty bottles of cleaning solution she had used. She would deposit them in the waste buckets in Ratchet's med bay later.

Lightning let out an indelicate snort. "Singers never, ever forget. I suppose I can try but I warn you, it was originally meant to be a duet, so singing it alone will sound just a tad off. It's like a harmony without the melody- actually, that's exactly what it is. But you asked, so-" Lightning broke off and switched to Cybertronian, except this sounded very different. Gone were the usual modem beeps, only to be replaced by a swelling whirring and held out sounds like metal clicking against itself and chirps intermingling throughout. It was beautiful and Lightningstrike was right, Mikaela could hear the holes where another voice would have gone.

Then, in between one blink and the next, there was another voice and the holes were gone. Strikezone had showed back up and she blended perfectly with her twin. Mikaela could see why they never needed instruments on Cybertron; their voices swelled and rolled like a storm, making independent instruments obsolete. It was perfect. And then it stopped. Mikaela opened eyes she didn't remember closing to see two girls standing in font of her, identical expressions on not quite identical faces. Not entirely sure of her voice, she simply clapped for the two unhappy looking femmes and grinned widely.

Bee's holo popped up next, his blond hair flipping everywhere as he bounced like an excited puppy. "You guys wrote that?" he asked, heedless of his fried wires and quite happy that he was mostly unaffected in holoform. "I loved that song! Jazz used to play it all the time when he was bored. He said his remix of it was what got him his first job."

Lightning blinked. "Since when does he talk so much?"

Strikezone flicked him in the forehead to get him to stop babbling. "Since he decided to make Ratchet's day hell. Good luck with the wrenches, scraplet," she said, smirking.

Mikaela's eyes widened as she pulled out her phone and checked the time. "Crap! Speaking of, I'm late! C'mon Bee, lets go together. Maybe he won't throw so may wrenches with me around." Bumblebee's eyes widened too before he disappeared and pulled up beside the human, engine revving. She got in and waved at the femmes before Bee took off, leaving the holos in his dust.

"I thought the wrenches were a myth," Lightning said eventually.

"Ah, no. Most likely, the rumors you've heard are just watered down. Come to think of it, how have you managed to stay away? You know what, don't tell me. Come on, sister dear, we've got things to see. We are finishing your official tour and then you're going to the Hatchet for a tune-up because a year is far too long to live here and not have met the business end of his favorite wrench," Strikezone said and promptly slung and arm over her sister's shoulders to prevent her from escaping like she clearly wanted to. Lightning decided then and there that her twin was secretly evil.

At that thought, she looked in the direction that the human and the bug had gone in and thought that perhaps they weren't that bad. She had been thinking about pointing the Autobots to mirrors the next time they started talking about good and evil but after speaking to those two, she thought that she ought to look in one first.

* * *

><p><strong>Songs used: Sexy and I know It by LMFAO, Isn't She Lovely by Stevie Wonder, Coming Home by Diddy Dirty Money<strong>


	5. Intermission 2

**Intermission 2**

**Say Something**

"_I will stumble and fall, I'm still learning to love, just starting to crawl, say something I'm giving up on you, I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you, anywhere I would have followed you"_

Sam Witwicky was not scared. Well, he wouldn't admit that he was. Okay, he was actually terrified, but he had good reason.

He was seeing things now, having waking dreams as real as his reality.

He heard voices, he'd long gotten used to that. The Primes in his head were- insistent, clamoring, _loud_ and refused to be ignored. Sam had gotten good at holding multiple conversations in the last three or four years. The visions were new, though. It was this damn All Spark, never quite done with its 'alterations' inside his head, never quite done with anything at all, really. His vision would split without warning sometimes, giving him a view of what he knew was going on and some part of Cybertron. Once, during his Astronomy class (it always seemed to be _that one_ class he had fits in), he had a vision of the Crystal Gardens in Praxus and then was immediately shown the brutal destruction of the whole city-state and he burst into tears. They weren't particularly girly tears, but it hurt to watch one of the most beautiful places on the planet just disappear because a warlord wanted to expand his territory. It was made all the worse by Optimus's feelings about said warlord. The mech's emotions clouded everything Sam thought and vice versa.

In the year since Egypt, Sam had never really been alone. In his visions, he was utterly and completely alone. As an only child he should have been used to the feeling but Cybertronians were never made to be alone and the All Spark seemed intent on showing him that.

Sam was hiding out in his dorm room after his last class of the day and was again glad for the silence of it. He technically still shared his room with Leo but since he was so easily scared these days and since Sam spazzed out constantly because of the All Spark, they agreed that it would be best if the other boy spent some time away. He slept in Sharsky and Fassbinder's dorm most nights and Sam didn't see much of the three of them these days. It was alright, he supposed. Leo was one of those people that couldn't really handle the things he knew. So Sam sat and enjoyed the quiet and tried to soothe his pounding head.

It wasn't really working out all that great.

"Shh," he said quietly without opening his eyes or moving from his dark corner, "migraine." Bee didn't bother to ask how Sam knew he had materialized in his room because Sam just knew a lot of things he shouldn't lately. "Don't comm Ratchet until later, please. It'll just make my head hurt worse and it already feels like there are miners with dynamite up there. If you're here for a reason, tell me. If you're not, sit down somewhere and be very, very quiet," Sam himself was whispering and he curled up tighter into his corner as he spoke, as if trying to get away from the sound of his own voice.

"That doesn't look very comfortable," Bee said, taking a step forward.

"It's not."

"Is it the All Spark again?"

Sam snorted, ignoring the pain it caused him, "Isn't it always? I'm getting visions now, but at least the nosebleeds are mostly gone." He had been getting horrible nosebleeds for weeks, blood running out of his nose like water and he always felt lightheaded afterwards. It had mostly stopped in conjunction with the visions and he wasn't sure which he liked better (or hated more since they both made day suck balls).

Bee sat against the wall, stretched out his long legs and patted his lap. "Lay down," he said quietly and Sam didn't even bother to argue. He cracked open one eye and winced (the room was as dark as it would get, but his eyes were beyond sensitive to light), quickly crawling over to Bee and lying his head in his lap. They both pretended that that wasn't the first time they had touched since Sam had come back to life and Bee had been frantic and desperate to make sure he was alright.

Bee's throat clicked a little and a song started playing (and it was so odd to hear in his human form but his voice must have been really paining him) quietly, "_Sooner or later it's over... Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive... What do you have to prove, I'd die for you, keep burning like fire, it's burning you down, sometimes they say this should feel something like fire, till it burns you and you can't, no you can't remain the same, stay the same._"

"So let it burn me down, Bee. Nothing can ever just stay the same," he replied quietly and Bee just put his hands on Sam's head, not moving at all, just there and the electricity in his hands soothed him a little. Sam took the silence for agreement, grudging though it probably was, and finally relaxed. Bumblebee started playing a song again, always that same one. It was calming now, almost a lullaby. Sam drifted off to the words, "_And I'd give up forever to touch you..._"

0o0

It wasn't until Sam woke up that they found the source of his migraine.

He'd been asleep for hours and a human's legs would have long since gone numb. When Sam did finally stir, it had gotten dark outside and Bee himself had put himself on a sort of standby, not quite asleep but certainly not awake. "Primus, how long have I been asleep?" Sam said in a sleep-heavy voice, lifting his head slowly. He didn't even notice which deity's name he had used. "At least my head feels better. Thanks for that, Bee. I haven't really slept in while. Since Egypt, really. So, thanks," he said as he propped himself up on his elbows and turned to smile at Bee.

Bumblebee could only gasp. His eyes had changed colors. One was its natural green but the other had turned bright Autobot blue and the pupil had gotten smaller than simple dilation could explain. "Sam... Sam, your eyes."

"What?" Sam said, scrambled up and headed for the bathroom mirror. "What? What's wrong with my-" silence echoed from the bathroom when he got a good look.

"My eyes," he said quietly. He was staring blankly at the mirror, so far in his own head that he wasn't aware of the world around him anymore. He did this often, diving into the All Spark for answers to the insanity that was his life, though it didn't always give him the answers he needed. It _would_ answer him this time.

"_Why are you doing this, Ally?"_ he asked and even inside his head his voice sounded shaky and unbalanced.

"_Why do you insist on calling me by that name?"_ Ally answered and Sam could never pin down the voice. It was ageless and genderless. It acted as a female and spoke like a male. Sam could never really choose so he just called it Ally like he had said he would in Egypt.

"_Because I can't pronounce your real one and I can't just call you 'it'. Now answer my question."_

A sigh echoed through his voice and the voice sounded suddenly weary. _"There are certain things you need to know. You need to know the Prey to be its Voice, Samuel. Eventually, I will begin to show you the histories of other civilizations so that you may learn from and protect them. Certain changes were required in order for you to do that. Your new eye will draw the visions and dull the pain. The migraines and nosebleeds were the products of a sort of retrofitting in your brain. I miscalculated what you could take originally, so I freed up some space for the extra information. You'll be able to compartmentalize and focus now, decide for yourself when and what you see. This should be the last of my alterations as well."_

"_For now,"_ Sam said and it wasn't a question at all.

There was another sigh and Ally quietly said, _"For now,"_ and for a moment, the blackness of his own mind was all Sam knew.

Then it was the black of the back of his eyelids as Bee's voice echoed through his head. "Sam? Sam, say something."

Sam groaned and blinked. Why was he on the floor? "Bee, you can stop now. I'm fine. But why am I on the floor?"

"I put you there. You've been out for half an hour. About fifteen minutes in, your knees got wobbly, so I sat you down. This is the longest you've zoned out like that. What happened?" Bee asked. He was squatted in front of Sam and checking his new eye as he spoke, frantic as a mother hen. Or Ratchet.

Sam swatted at his friend's hand and buried his head in his hands. "The eye is fine. This should be the end of these little _'alterations'_ for me. I don't know why I'm freaking out so badly. I've known for a very long time that I'm not really human anymore and this eye is just an outward sign of that. I thought I was okay with that. Why can't I just _be okay_ with that?"

Bee's throat clicked again and Sam was distantly surprised at how long the holo had managed to talk before music started playing again, "_Is there a right way for being strong, feels like I'm doing things all wrong, still I'm here just holding on._"

Bee was right, he guessed. He didn't have to be strong all the time, especially when finding out his eye had just been replaced by semi-robotic alien technology and his brain had been repurposed. That didn't mean he wanted to break down while thinking about it though, so he changed the subject. "I missed our appointment. Mikaela's gonna be royally pissed."

Bee just grinned and handed Sam his phone.

0o0

**Songs used: Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls, Fire by Sleeping with Sirens and Scene Two: Roger Rabbit by Sleeping with Sirens**


	6. Intermission 3

**Intermission 3**

**Pretty Poison**

_"Leave me alone, leave me alone, all the voices inside my head, pretty poison you're in my veins, go away, go away, won't you leave me for just one day, just one day"_

"What is wrong, old friend?"

"Why does something have to wrong, Prime? Can't I just want to shoot something?" Ironhide grunted, proceeding to shoot again.

"It has nothing to do with the shooting, my friend. It has everything to do with the weapon," Optimus said, waving a servo and the blaster Ironhide was testing. "You once told me that you reserve ion blasters for the most deserving. The last time you used one was before Tyger Pax when you found out that Chromia and Arcee were staying behind. So, what is wrong?"

"Why in the Pit do you know me so well, youngling?"

"You fairly raised me, Ironhide. You've known me since I actually was a youngling. I believe that gives me some sort of insight into how you think, friend." Optimus didn't add the fact that his position lent him the ability to see certain things, turmoil being one of them. It was his job to take care of his people and being able to do that had always been instrumental in that.

Ironhide fired off another round and snorted. "I'm sure that's the only reason, Prime." It took another full round and the blaster's cool down period before Ironhide's shoulder slumped and he sighed. "You're persistent, youngling. There's nothing wrong, Prime, just sleeping Predacons come to bite me."

"Dropkick was a good mech," Optimus said and he wasn't just spouting platitudes. Ironhide had met the mech back when he was Dijon before Orion had moved to Kaon and whoever Dijon knew, Orion knew. He had genuinely liked him and the fact that he was the reason Dijon had become a Weapons Master was only a plus.

"No, Dropkick was an aft, but I lo- but he was a part of me that I wasn't prepared to loose. I could use him right about now." The blaster thunked as it hit his work table.

Optimus knew this too but he was honestly confused now. Dropkick had been dead since right before the beginning of the war and on principle, Ironhide dealt with death rather well. So, after so long why would the old soldier be thinking of his bright blue dear-

_Oh_.

Lightningstrike appearing from thin air two years ago changed all their lives and Optimus had been so focused on his Strikezone that he hasn't really thought of what it would to the others. It took Ironhide breaking down for him to think of the others. What kind of leader was he? But then, he had personal experience with the mess that seemed to follow those femme twins like a lovesick petro-dog. "You know, when I first met Strikezone, I hated her," he said, leaning against Ironhide's work table.

That got his attention. "What?" He said. "You two have been joined at the hip since you met."

"There is a difference between feeling compelled by the Matrix to help and genuinely wanting to help. In the beginning, I only felt that obligation to help her. It wasn't long before I realized that I honestly enjoyed her and that only frustrated me, coming on the heels of losing- everything. Even then I could not stay away and you see where I am now."

"Interesting as that is, what's your love life got to do with me, youngling?" Ironhide asked gruffly. He started disassembling and cleaning his blaster.

"History is always important and I thought that you might find that particular part informative," Prime said and Ironhide got the distinct impression that he was smiling behind his battle mask. Then he walked back out of the training room, not even bothering to give reason, his EM field leaking the feeling of a smirking Prime.

Ironhide snorted as he finished cleaning his blaster. "Arrogant younglings," and he promptly sat down in his bench to think. "Arrogant younglings who are always right," he sighed before he set to work.

He had a new recruit to assess and train.

0o0

"Pay attention, mech! How do you plan on assessing me if you don't _pay attention_?" Lightningstrike said, finally fed up with Ironhide's low grade performance and backing away from him.

"I am," he growled, lowering his little-used heavy broad sword.

She snorted. "No you're not. I'm winning, mech and I'm not supposed to be able to. You're a Weapons Master and you should be able to win without your fans kicking in, not the other way around. Where's the fearsome Ironhide I went into recharge hearing stories about?" She snorted again and shook her head before breaking down her double ended sword and transforming it back into servos. "Talk to me when you're ready for this."

She turned to walk out and Ironhide was struck dumb. There were buried memories, painful ones (_flashing blue armor and a disdainful voice saying, "talk to me when you're ready for this."_) that he had hidden for a reason. He looked down at his broad sword and wondered what the Pit he was doing here with her, letting her whip his aft. His head was always in the game, but his spark wasn't so focused. He was there to assess her.

Ironhide had a lot of secrets. With the amount of things he wouldn't think, let alone talk about, it was a wonder he hadn't lost his processor yet. Optimus was one who knew all his secrets, though Primus knew how. He had gone to great lengths to hide things when he was practically raising Orion but the younger mech had always seemed to just _know_. Ratchet was another who knew, just because he was as old as Ironhide and had lived through most of it. The rest who may have known were all dead. Including Dropkick.

He wondered if this femme could take it as well as she seemed to so boldly claim. He was there to assess her and there was only one way to find out.

So, he put some more of the trylithium steel he was famous for into his spine and lifted the heavy broad sword higher as if it weighed nothing. "Lightningstrike, I think the real question is, _are you_?"

She turned around with a smile on her face and her red visor glowing brighter than normal. Her servos transformed into either end of her sturdy double ended sword and she put them together with the ease of someone who knew very well what they were doing before dropping into a fighting stance. "Round two, old mech?" she asked with a snide, challenging lilt to her voice.

"Who you callin' old, scraplet?" he snarled back, dropping into his own stance.

They clashed.


	7. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**No Light, No Light**

"_You want a revelation, you wanna get it right, but it's a conversation I just can't have tonight, you want a revelation, some type of resolution, you want a revelation, no light, no light in your bright blue eyes, I never knew daylight could be so violent"_

"They are worried."

"They're scared."

"Rightly so."

"Primus, you're just like them, aren't you?" Strikezone rounded on Optimus, pulling a U-turn on the narrow road and spraying sand into her undercarriage. Ratchet would be pissed but she couldn't find it in her to really care right then. She was stressed and on a hair-trigger and just couldn't believe _Optimus_ was spewing such scrap. 

"I am worried Strikezone, for the both of you. There is something truly not right happening. Your twin is here and yet you act more and more as though you have a broken bond. You remind me far too much of Sideswipe now and you must understand why I hold a certain amount of distrust towards her," he said and she hated how logical he sounded. She hated that he had it all reasoned out. She hated that he had an answer for everything. She hated that he couldn't (_wouldn't_) say her sister's name.

She just hated.

Strikezone still loved him, though and that made the whole thing worse. Would they really make her choose?

Would she be able to?

"She's my twin. Mine. Doesn't that have any bearing over what you think of her?" Striker said, agitatedly rocking on her shocks.

"That is precisely the problem. She has not acted as your twin in countless vorns and suddenly, here she is with you as her fiercest protector. You, who should hate her most. I simply find it very hard to believe and harder to watch you go through what is clearly torture for you," he rumbled out. Prime was agitated too, the Peterbilt's smokestacks belching thick smoke and his engine working overtime, if the sound of it was anything to go by.

Strikezone's instincts picked a direction they wanted to go in and stuck with it then. Away. She rocked back a few inches, not out of fear but an intense need to be away from all of them. So she said, "Nice to know what my opinion means to you, Lord Prime," in the coldest voice she could manage and Prime visibly flinched back. It was no surprise and no great mystery why; she had never used that tone with him (he had likely never heard it from her, since she tended to be fairly level around him) and Strikezone had never once in their many vorns together called him by that title. Never.

This was the breaking point.

"Sister moon," he said, an admittedly weak attempt to get her to stop moving, listen to reason (since when had _he_ been the voice of absolute reason? Since hers had seemed to run away).

And she almost did stop then because that was his name, the one no one else called her but her only reply was, "Don't call me that." She offered no other explanation as she continued to back up before smoothly transforming from car to tetra jet (they hadn't quite gotten around to giving her a plane to scan yet) and taking off back in the direction they had come.

Optimus pulled U-turn as well to face that direction and watch her go, feeling as if he had made a terrible mistake.

0o0

Once Strikezone had flown herself out (more like calm, she could never get tired of flying), she found herself in one of the less-used hangers on the island.

"Fancy meeting you here," came a waspish voice from the door.

"Lightningstrike," she breathed. There was still that insistent non-tug on her spark. It wasn't like normal twins, but it was there and a painful reminder of what she had. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for a new dark place to hide, since Ironhide found my last one." She was right and the hanger was dark. Most of the windows had been boarded up and the ones that weren't only let in a hazy half-light that highlighted the dust in the air.

"Come and sit, then. I was just about to set up a little pity party and who better to pity myself with than my own distant half-spark?" Striker said in a gratingly cheerful voice. She was bitter.

Lightningstrike sneered, an expression disturbingly similar to a derisive and lucid Starscream. "I hope you didn't expect us to be perfect again, because that will not happen. We aren't those femmes anymore," she said and her voice was lilting, almost like a song- the siren song that lured sailors to their deaths.

"I know, but that doesn't stop me from missing it. It certainly doesn't stop me from hurting and you being near all the time doesn't help." Striker knew she was being stupid, but she was too tired. She didn't want to be the mature one today.

"You want me to say something, huh? You want me to spew out some slag about being sorry for being a Decepticon? You want me to be sorry? You want a revelation?" Lightning said, nearly fed up.

"No, I don't want any of that. I just want to know what wrong. I just want to know why we're not... us anymore," she said, words almost failing when they were the only thing she had left. Because Strikezone wasn't sure that she really had a twin anymore.

"You know why. You know why. And plus, you've got your Prime in your spark and I'm not really sure there's enough room in your spark for the both of us."

A grinding metallic sound made its way from her throat, a vicious Cybertronian snarl as she and her sister faced off. They wouldn't actually fight, instinct wouldn't let them, but this... She couldn't back down on this. "You're family, you've done the prerequisite threats, that's all you _get_. We haven't seen, nor acknowledged each other in vorns. You don't get to tell me who to love, let alone bond to. He's mine."

Lightningstrike looked at her sister and took in the cold, pale blue optics, glossy black finish and aggressive stance. It was all so different from the bright blue optics and eternally shimmering meteor shower painted by their Creators and knew that this wasn't the same femme. She knew she didn't have a right, but rights were something that had never stopped here before. "He's Optimus Prime!"

Striker gave a laugh without humor that was barely heard over her growling engine. "And I love him!" she yelled, he voice cracking and raising to meet her sister's volume. "I love him, something that's pretty fragging hard to do with this broken, pitiful spark of mine." And if she sounded a little bitter, oh well.

"You mean half a spark," Lightning said in a quiet little voice. She felt it too.

"Something like that," because Striker couldn't bring herself to crush Lightning so completely by blaming her for this. Not now.

Lightningstrike would let it go- for now. She didn't like and she wouldn't accept it, but she would let it go. First though, to make sure her twin understood this part, "He's the Prime," which was really her only problem.

"You don't have to like it or accept it; I know you well enough not to ask for that," Striker said quietly. Damn their twin bond for letting the femme know what she was thinking. "But understand that I do love him. He's Pax too, a mech that breaks down and cries and feels remorse and heartbreak and so much love. He gets jealous and he's just as stubborn as me. He throws tantrums still and can be the clumsiest mech sometimes but everyone has flaws. There isn't a single one of us left without flaw or sin so if he can put up with my half-afted love, then I can put up with his baggage. Primus knows I've got my own."

"Fine." The word wasn't an agreement, just a call for a truce that Striker took because it was the best she would get.

She'd take anything she could get. "Let's just not have this conversation tonight. I don't think I can finish it."

"Yeah," was the bitten off answer.

"Oh and Lightning?" she called as her twin turned to leave, "Word to the wise. Decepticons stab you in the back but you know it's coming because its expected but Autobots... Autobots are all frontal attacks straight to the spark. Problem is, you never see it coming. Watch yourself, sister."

Lightningstrike left without saying anything, mulling over Striker's words. Somehow, she knew she had set herself up for that kind of attack unknowingly.

She was in for sparkache, but from who?

0o0

"_I see nothing in your eyes and the more I see, the less I like."_

"Oh," she said, not quite startled, "Bumblebee. I wasn't expecting you."

He stood there quietly, the shadow of his biped form stretching to meet her sitting one. Striker pulled herself together quickly. She hadn't been crying, Cybertronians couldn't, but she was privately enjoying her own pity party. It wasn't pretty and definitely wasn't anything she wanted her surrogate little brother to see. He did, of course, because he was still Black Ops and he saw everything. "_She's dancing with strangers, she's falling apart, she's waiting for... sisters with nothing between,"_ said his radio.

Striker didn't say anything for a minute. She didn't want to admit that she was falling apart, that her sister's physical proximity and mental distance was ripping her apart but- "Is it really that obvious?" she asked quietly. "I had hoped to spare them their guilt." The last part came out dripping in acid. So maybe she was a little bitter, oh well.

"_Mm whatcha say, oh that you only meant well, well of course you did."_

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, isn't it?" she said with a sharp-edged smile, not quite looking at Bee. She preferred sitting on the cliff and looking at the ocean, contemplating flying away to turning back to look at the yellow bot and Diego Garcia and all her problems.

"_And she smiles, oh the way she smiles,_" his radio sang and Bee somehow managed to make the upbeat song sound regretful.

"What do you want me to say, Bee? Just tell me what you want me to say," she whispered. She couldn't speak louder, not now with everything crashing down.

Bumblebee didn't have an answer, so he simply knelt and gave his older sister a hug. She needed it.

0o0

* * *

><p><strong>Songs used: Breath by Breaking Benjamin, Waiting for Superman by Daughtry, Run for Your Life by the Fray, Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap<strong>


End file.
